Chapter Text
"Stay safe."
Those two words had kept Belle wide awake two nights after the day her father was supposed to return from selling his music box. The crescent moon was high in the sky as Belle laid in her bed, staring out the window, listening for any signs of her father's return. Fear had crept into her soul and she knew, that after all this time, something was wrong. Why else was he late? The town was quiet and peaceful at night, which was the only way Belle could find a sliver of relaxation. Her mind ran through the scenarios of what she would have to do to survive if her father really never would return.
Eventually, she turned over in her bed, closed her eyes, and willed herself to find sleep.
Two days turned into two weeks where Belle was the gossip of the town, regardless of what had been talked of her before as being the town's funny girl. There was no money left, no food, and there were men moving around her home, taking out her belongings. She was being evicted.
"Please!" Belle cried as she was being yanked through the front door and down her steps, her hands gripped knuckles-white on the only piece of her mother she had ever known -- a single painting by her father. She wouldn't let it go, even when the man who was taking it to the carriage filled with her other belongings tried to shake her off.
"Let's not get hasty here," came a familiar voice.
Belle looked over at Gaston as she had been fully shaken off of her mother's painting, angry tears in her eyes and her body soaked in sweat from her struggles.
No one had contacted her to even check on her, to even see if she had been okay. She didn't count the times Gaston had come to her door, asking for her to come out and talk to him.
"Gaston," Belle greeted shakily, looking beyond him at the withering garden and the people of the town watching beyond him.
Anger boiled within her and she wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or purely outraged. A man came out through the door with her father's easel.
"Gaston," Belle said, shameless hope suddenly sprung in her chest, "please, do something!"
Gaston narrowed his eyes on Belle.
It had been the first time Gaston had ever crossed the threshold of her home. He looked around and Belle knew he was instantly judged. It wasn't homey or large like his inn that he owned, but it was her home. Her and her father had made what they could of it. He sat at the table tucked in the breakfast nook, all of her belongings replaced and sitting in the entry hall, waiting to be returned to their natural places. Gaston had stopped the men from taking her things away, paid them, and cursed them to never bother the residence ever again, no matter what her and her father owed.
"It's simple, Belle," Gaston said with a smug smile curled at his lips. His dark eyebrows were raised in dramatic reference as he motioned his hand to the house. "Marry me, and you can keep this all."
Belle looked down at the wooden mug half-filled with water she had been sipping at, trying to gather her thoughts. She blinked at it, confused.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
"What don't you understand?" Gaston asked, shaking his head.
Belle looked up at Gaston and tilted her head to the side, her eyes puffy from crying hard earlier that day. "Why me?" she asked. "I have nothing to offer."
Gaston blinked at Belle and his facial features softened slightly into something more natural. "You're beautiful, Belle. Think of the beautiful children we'd make!" he said with a hearty laugh, as if it were silly of her not to even know.
Belle wasn't sure she'd ever be happy ever again, not until the day her father would return, no matter how much of a miracle that seemed to be. She shook her head again and then leaned back in her chair as she crossed her arms over her chest, "I could never make you happy."
Gaston's face fell and he looked down at the cup of water Belle had offered him out of politeness. With an unreadable expression Belle wasn't exactly sure what to make of, Gaston brushed his thumb over the rim of the mug. "We'll see about that."